


Two Parts of a Watering Hole

by Cresstionmark



Category: Discord Murder Party, Internet Personalities, Internet Remix
Genre: Camp Streamix, Canon Divergent, Crossover, Fluff, Gen, Let Vincent Rest 2k18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cresstionmark/pseuds/Cresstionmark
Summary: Vincent finally gets a break, and decides to go the Streamix Lake before he returns to the Void. He didn't expect to have a visitor, someone who seems a lot like him...Canon Divergent-- Vincent actually gets to rest after the first scenario like he asks because he deserves it.





	Two Parts of a Watering Hole

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a gift for Split's birthday, but I figure it's been long enough now to drop it in public! He seemed to like it, so I hope you do too!

Vincent sat idly by the lake side, looking long into the sunset. It’d been some time since he’d seen one so beautiful, without the looming sense of doom and duty that a sunset usually brought with it. Of course, this one would end too, hurling him back into the throes of The Game, but for now he would enjoy the little time he had. He might’ve thanked Murder God for allowing it, even, if she weren’t such a massive bitch.

Just when he was about to go into a full drift, he heard a rustle from the woods behind him, and immediately went back on alert. He’d heard about the bears in these parts, which is bad on it's own, but he was more so worried about the _campers._ He had just gotten away from the screaming and sniveling, and even as a parent himself he could only take so much.

Vincent turned around, braced for impact, and--upon seeing a bright red bandana--cringed. The red bandana kids were the worst. That meant they were _her_ kids. Vincent released his mounting tension, however, when he saw a more defining factor- a black and white mask, split evenly down the middle. A masked child bearing the mark of a murderer would normally be a terrifying sight, but for Vincent it was a small relief. Not only had he seen worse, but this kid at least had helped him at some point. The boy had fished Vincent out of the water, freeing him from his 2 week long drowning episode. For that, if Vincent were to have to see one camper, he was glad it was this one.

It meant he only had to be his usual amount of [anxious, guarded, “on his toes" so to speak, untrusting] cautious.

The boy came down the wooded pathway and continued toward the water as it gave way to the sand, ultimately stopping at the water's edge and paying no mind to Vincent. Vincent paid a lot of mind to this, watching the kid walk every step of the way. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Vincent felt the need to break what he felt was an increasingly awkward atmosphere.

“Hey.”

The kid turned his mask to Vincent, no discernible change of expression in his body language.

“‘Sup.”

And so they returned to silence. Vincent slightly adjusted his position on the bank, and the kid turned to methodically surveying the ground. He rubbed the rough surface’s mixture of sand and dirt, as though he were looking for something specific. Eventually he stopped, seeming to have found what he needed. He picked up a rock, checked it’s smoothness, and chucked it straight into the water. It skipped 7 or 8 times, landing a decent ways away from shore, and sunk to the bottom.

“Wow, that’s a nice technique you got there, kiddo!” Kiddo. The word left Vincent’s mouth before he even knew he was gonna say it, and even afterwards he was a little surprised and a touch ashamed. The kid turned to him, about to skip another rock, and lingered for a second longer than he probably needed to.

“Uh….thanks.”

He threw the rock, getting another sizable amount of skips; another impressive throw. Vincent used to skip rocks at the local creek with his friends as a boy, and he held the record for second place (“it still counts as a record because Tom’s an asshole and probably cheated” was his logic at the time). 

“Y’know, back in my day, I used to be pretty impressive too.” Back in my day. Vincent internally cringed. He’d gone from a father to a straight up Grandpa in a matter of a sentence.

“Nice.” and with that, the kid picked up another rock and chucked it.

Maybe Vincent could salvage this. Maybe he could reel it back in.

“Listen, son-” **_son._ **

The kid stopped his wind up.

“Hey, dude, you don't gotta try to like, “relate" to me or anything. Just watch the water. It looks nice.”

And he went right back to skipping. Skip and ker-plunk.

Vincent sighed. Why was trying so hard to “relate” to this kid, anyway? Sure, he had a soft spot for children and missed his own to death, but this one felt different. For one, he was pretty much ignoring him, which totally didn’t bother him at all, but he was used to kids in this multiverse  either flocking to him or flocking to someone else. This kid seemed pretty much like a lone ranger, and honestly Vincent had some level of respect for that. The kid also had basically saved him from another two weeks of torment only a few hours before, so maybe he felt he owed him? Now that he thought about it, that entire situation surrounding this kid was a little weird.

Vincent felt a question burning in his chest, but he’d already spoken a little too much and thought he’d give it some time. He watched the water, just as suggested, and it really was still very beautiful. The skipping of stones added a bit of rhythmic melody to the atmosphere,almost as though the lake was playing a song. To think he had been there for a whole two weeks, deeply submerged in it and suffering, only to admire its beauty shortly after at its surface.

Turning his gaze, Vincent started watching the boy again, going through the motions of searching, skipping, and watching as the rocks sank into the water. The boy almost did it nonchalantly, expending very little effort but still exhibiting a level of power and finesse that meant he’d been here a lot.

After a few more throws, the kid put his hands in his pockets, let the wind blow in his hair, taking in the breeze, then slowly came in Vincent’s direction. He walked up to a boulder right next to Vincent and sat on top of it, just making him a little taller than Vincent was in his sitting position. They sat there in silence and watched the water gurgle, catching light sparkles in the sunlight. Vincent shifted his eyes towards the boy, and, despite not wanting to break the odd moment of camaraderie, spoke up to what he’d been mulling over.

“Why did you pull me out of the water?”

The boy cocked his head, his face still unreadable due to the mask, and shrugged.

“I was just fishin’.” he said, matter-of-factly. Vincent had a hard time believing that, partially because he didn’t have a hard time believing that; this kid would just go out fishing alone for the sake of it. The kid seemed like he’d be purposefully obtuse, especially if he knew what someone  was getting at, so Vincent decided to cut to the chase.

“OK…” Vincent continued. “More to the point, why didn’t it, I dunno, freak you out at all to see a grown man on your fishing line who was very clearly dying and had no reason to be at a summer camp?”

The kid shrugged once again.

“I’ve seen weirder.” he turned his head back to the water. “I've seen worse.”

Vincent’s blood lowered a few degrees upon hearing that, and didn't feel the need to ask too much more. He felt a sudden feeling of sympathy--empathy, even--and not in the fatherly way he’d been feeling up to this point. It was almost a feeling of kindredship, as though he understood everything even though he knew nothing about it.  Vincent felt as though the child had lived as long as he had, longer even, and given that time meant nothing in The Game, he couldn't help but give the boy his silence. He knew it was something he’d wanted for a long time.

They both turned back to the water, watching long at the dying sunset. It’d been so long since they’d seen one so beautiful.


End file.
